


Stars fading but I linger on, dear

by SpaceBat (kuraikon)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreamwalking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier’s in trouble, M/M, Monster of the Week, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Somewhere between Djinn and dreamwalkers from supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25052818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuraikon/pseuds/SpaceBat
Summary: An undead creature out for revenge, heartbroken lovers forced apart; its a ballad in the making.If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.And Jaskier is running out of time.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 134





	Stars fading but I linger on, dear

-

“ _‘Oh was there ever such a beautiful horse?  
Nay, none compared to our Witcher’s Roach!  
But fear her kick, for it’s a wild force,  
If you try t’touch or even dare approach!’_

What do you think girl?”

Roach snorted at Jaskier who hummed and drew a line through the scribbled words.

“Yeah, you’re right, you deserve much better.” Humming, Jaskier picked up another slice of apple from his lap and held it up from where he was sat at Roach’s side for the horse to take from his fingers. He scrunched his nose up thoughtfully and ate a piece himself, startling when Roach lifted her head sharply to look into the trees. 

Both bard and horse relaxed when Geralt stepped into the clearing. Tucking his belongings away, Jaskier scrambled to his feet to smile brightly at the Witcher. “Find anything?”

Geralt made a positive noise, passing Jaskier a folded piece of paper as he rubbed Roach’s nose. Jaskier watched with soft eyes for a moment before unfolding the paper and reading aloud.

“Witcher wanted for undead creature haunting our town.” He scrunched up his nose. “Not narrowing it down much. Where’s this town?”

“Just outside Reeches.” Geralt answered, plucking the paper from Jaskier to fold it and tuck it into a pocket. “Should only take us two days to get there.”

With Geralt already checking the bags on Roach and climbing on her back,Jaskier strapped his lute to his back and glanced around to make sure he hadn’t left anything out. “Sounds like a plan.” They had left Hagge a few days ago but hadn’t had much of a heading except away. Roach began to walk and Jaskier fell in step to her slow walk and held out the last two slices of apple for her.

“You spoil her.” Geralt grumbled, then blinked as Jaskier set a whole perfectly-formed apple on the saddle. 

“I didn’t forget you, don’t worry.” Jaskier wasn’t going to mention that he had almost fallen out of the tree while getting that fruit, while the one he had shared with Roach had been a pre-fallen one. “Now, help me with these lyrics. I need to put into words that Roach is a gorgeous creature who would absolutely kill you if you so much as looked at her.”

-

The so called town was more like a village. The houses all seemed small and old and there was only one inn for Jaskier to source a room from. The community seemed very tight knit and people looked vaguely surprised and nervous at seeing a new person walking their streets as Jaskier wandered around to find Geralt. This did make it easy to spot Geralt as he walked out of the town hall, and easier still to catch up the Witcher as the townspeople were giving them both a wide berth. 

“Any leads?” Jaskier asked, falling into step. 

Geralt grunted. “There’s a herbalist north of town. Those who have seen the spirit say it’s his son. He haunts the bridge and has been calling to the townsfolk - two have disappeared and found drowned in the river already.”

Catching the twitching of Geralt’s fingers and the narrowing of his eyes, Jaskier frowned. “What is it? You seem concerned.”

With a shake of his head, Geralt stayed quiet as they left the town on foot, heading north into the forest. Eventually, Geralt spoke again.

“The mayor says the boy slipped and drowned. But people who have seen the spirit say he was claws for fingers and flames for eyes.” The Witcher paused, listening, and turned their direction slightly. “It sounds like an afarit spirit, and they are not made easily.”

“You think his death wasn’t an accident.”

Geralt shook his head. “I don’t.”

A small cabin came into view and Geralt raised a hand in signal for Jaskier to linger behind him. A man was outside, lifting crates onto a wagon. He was older and breathing hard as his arms trembled against the weight of the boxes, a soft clanking noise coming from them as glass rattled. Jaskier darted forwards, dodging Geralt’s grab, and caught a spare side of a crate as the man struggled to lift it, the box almost slipping from his hands. Jaskier could feel Geralt rolling his eyes as he helped the man lift the box in safely to the wagon and then smile brightly at the older herbalist. 

“Why, thank you.” The man said, sounding tried. He smiled back at Jaskier but dropped it when he saw Geralt come up next to the bard. With a heavy sigh, he motioned behind them and sat himself shakily on a share crate. “I wondered when a Witcher would come to see me. You’re here about my Kenley I suppose.”

Geralt said nothing. Jaskier peered in some of the crates waiting to be put on the wagon. 

“Are you leaving?” The bard asked.

“There is nothing left for me here.” He looked sad and worn. “The people in the town were never really happy to have me living so close, especially after my wife, a healer, passed in childbirth. But I stuck it out as it was better for Kenley to have a town nearby. Now though...” He trailed off with a shrug. 

“Do you believe this spirit is your son?” Geralt asked. 

The man closed his eyes as if in pain. “I’m sure it is. Kenley’s death was a month ago. And the spirit began appearing and calling to the townspeople just days later.”

Jaskier made a soft noise. “He fell from the bridge where the spirit has been seen?”

There was anger in the man’s eyes as he opened them. “Is that what you’ve been told?” He asked, bitterly. 

Finally, Geralt sat opposite the man, perching on a large box. “I could smell the lies being told to me. A spirit that strong isn’t made without foul play. Why don’t you tell me the truth.”

Jaskier folded his legs and sat on the grass as the man sighed. “Kenley was a good boy. Strong from his work with me, kind from trying to appease the townsfolk. He had his mother’s eyes.” The man smiled. “And Rose, the mayor’s daughter, is a lovely girl, smart and kind and so very beautiful. I wasn’t surprised when Kenley fell in love with her. Her returning his feelings was a happy day for me; he would do well moving to the town and settling down.”

With a dreamy sigh, Jaskier swooned from his seat. “Ah, young love!”

“The mayor did not share your romanticism.” The man said, smile fading. “Rose had many offers of marriage coming from larger towns. Her wanting to marry a common boy, a son of an outcasted herbal man... he saw it a waste of her future.”

“He had your son killed.“ Geralt filled in, voice soft. 

The man swallowed hard. “A note came, for him to meet Rose under the bridge. But the mayor’s brother and nephew were waiting form him instead. They held him underwater till he drowned. Rose is being married off to some nobleman in Drakenborg.”

Jaskier knelt up to place a hand over the man’s shaking ones. “I’m so sorry.”

Several shaking breathes steadied the man. He gripped Jaskier’s hand in thanks. “I can’t stay here, buying from the butcher who killed my boy, paying taxes to the man who ordered his death. Watching the woman he loved be traded for power. Seeing his ghost be malicious in a way he never was.”

“It is not your son.” Geralt said firmly. “Simply a demon drawn to the savagery of his death. I want to stop this demon; but I would need to put an iron spike through your sons body to do so and I would ask your permission first.”

The man flinched at the casualness of the description but he did not his agreement. “My boy was a kind soul. I would not want his memory to be tainted by this lingering vengeful spirit. Free him, Witcher.”

-

“What a wonderfully horrid story.” Jaskier said as they reentered the town. “Not a song for bars on the road but oh, it will make a great ballad for the bardic contest in spring.” Geralt raised an eyebrow at him but Jaskier took no notice as he narrowed his eyes in thought. “Slow and haunting, with a building rhythm for the dramatic end. A song full of heartbreak and mystery and just a touch of horror.” He grinned at Geralt. “Valdo Marx won’t be standing a chance this year.”

“You say that every year.”

“Because it’s true every year.” Jaskier pointed out. “You have to let me come tonight Geralt.”

A heavy sigh. “Jaskier...”

Twisting to stand in front of the Witcher and block his way to the inn, Jaskier clasped his hands together. “Oh please, Geralt. I can’t miss this! The brave white wolf fighting to rest a tortured spirit! I’ll be careful, I swear!”

Geralt wrestled with himself for a few moments, Jaskier pouting and shining bright blue eyes at him in desperation. Like always, he found himself giving in and wondering if Jaskier was sure he was only human. “Fine. But you have to listen to me for once.”

“I’ll be the perfect form of obedience, you won’t regret this Geralt!”

Geralt knew he was going to regret this.

-

Jaskier pulled at the collar of the thin leather armour Geralt had stubbornly forced over his head before they left the inn that night. It was too big on him but not so heavy as to restrict him from moving; he may not have Geralt’s muscles but we wasn’t some delicate waif, his thighs and arms were strong from walking and carrying his belongings around, he could take a little bit of extra weight. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

“Armour doesn’t even make sense,” he whined, “the men were drowned, not stabbed.”

“You said you’d abide by my rules, Jask. Stop arguing or I’ll go without you.”

Huffing, Jaskier kept quiet, knowing when to fight his battles with the Witcher. Pouting, he didn’t realise Geralt and stopped and walked straight into the man as he led them towards the graveyard on the East edge of the town. 

“Oof!”

Stepping to the side of his friend, Jaskier opened his mouth to complain but stopped short when he was a woman hesitating in the shadows of two houses. She glanced around and stepped towards them when she deemed it safe.

She was pretty, tanned and slim with bright wide eyes and full lips. Her blonde hair was pulled into a long braid which draped over the shoulder of her cape and her hands were delicate when she stopped in front of them and clasped them to her chest. She looked tired, dark worried circles under her eyes and raw bitten lips. 

“Rose, I presume?” Geralt said, voice gentle and quiet. Jaskier blinked in surprise. 

“I’m not going to stop you from ridding my town of him,” she said softly, not bothering with pleasantries, “but I know you’ll be digging up his grave and I wanted to ask a favour.” A letter was held out, sealed with a kiss. “I wasn’t allowed to go to his funeral. Will you put this in his grave?”

Geralt made a humming noise. “I could leave the grave open, for you to do it yourself tomorrow.”

Rose shook her head and looked around again. “Rylan, Kenley’s father, is leaving at dawn and I intend to go with him. I can’t stay here and be promised off like some sort of possession.” She grabbed Geralt’s hand and pressed the letter with a bag of coins into his palm. “Please.”

After a long look, Geralt passed her back the coins and kept the letter. “Consider it done.”

Her shoulders sunk in relief. “Thank you, Witcher. Stay safe.” 

Jaskier and Geralt watched as she turned and darted away back into the shadows without looking back. “This ballad practically writes itself.” Jaskier whispered in delight, physically stopping himself from vibrating on the spot. 

Geralt rolled his eyes and tucked the letter into a pouch. “Come on.”

They arrived at the graveyard and found Kenley’s headstone with ease at the front, two other newly dug graves near him. Geralt immediately pulled out a pouch of something and made a small circle with the dust he poured from the bag, a little away from the graves. He motioned at Jaskier. “Get in the ring. Don’t come out till I say.”

“Dare I ask?” Jaskier said, carefully stepping in without disturbing the dust. 

Grabbing a shovel that had been left leaning against a tree, Geralt pointed the handle at the bard. “It’s not guaranteed but it will do a bit to stop the spirit from getting to you.”

For a while, Jaskier watched silently as Geralt dug, the rhythmic push-lift-throw of the soil never faltering. 

“You called it an afarit.” Jaskier said eventually. “What is that?”

Geralt graves the bard with a glance. “Some say it’s a festering spirit of a human killed wrongfully. Others say a demon which latches on to a murdered soul. You remember the Djinn?”

Started by the non-sequitur, Jaskier touches his throat. “How could I forget?”

The Witcher grunted. “A few sources claim that afarit’s can grant hearts desires similar to a Djinn, if the victim is deemed worthy. Though the price is heavy.”

“And if the victim is not worthy?”

The shovelling paused. “I suppose if a desire can be granted, a nightmare can be imposed too.”

Jaskier swallowed and didn’t ask another question. Waiting as Geralt finally dig deep enough to pull up the wooden boards covering the corpse of Kenley. The shovel was tossed to the side and Geralt dug through his bags for long iron stake he had been carrying. Jaskier watched eagerly as Geralt hesitated before jumping into the grave, pausing the pull out Rose’s letter and drop it into the grave first. 

A chill went through Jaskier and Geralt seemed to feel it too, as his shoulders tensed and if he had had hackles, they would have been rising. The Witcher growled low in his chest and looked around, eyes bright in the darkness. He saw something that Jaskier didn’t and dive to the side away from the grave as an invisible ball of energy flew towards him, whipping the air up around the grave as a blue-tinged apparition appeared.

The man seemed to be dripping wet, flickering in and out of sight and feet not quite touching the ground. Bright flames covered his eyes and his mouth was open in an angry snarl as he looked upon his grave. He lifted his head and fire-eyes looked straight at Jaskier, who’s breath caught in his throat at the pure fury there.

The man disappeared as Geralt sprung up behind him, swiping the iron stake through the ghost. But the air around them didn’t warm and the man appeared back into view, slamming both hands against Geralt’s chest and sending him flying across the ground. The Witcher barely lay flat on the grass before jumping up again, hissing as he threw the stake into the ghost. Kenley disappeared again and Geralt ran to dive at the stake, grabbing it just as the man reappeared and flung his arm out, sending Geralt tumbling into his dug out grave. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier yelled and, without thinking, stepped forwards out of the circle, smudging the ring. Kenley’s burning eyes snapped to Jaskier and his mouth fell open into a fanged smile. Suddenly the man was diving at Jaskier, arms outstretched, and Jaskier was frozen to the spot. Dimly, he registered a cold spike into his chest and the afarit touched him and Geralt letting out a grunt as he drove the stake into the body of Kenley. 

The night went deathly still. The apparition disappeared into nothing. 

The cold spread from Jaskier’s chest to his toes. 

Geralt’s head poked out of the grave. Gold eyes took in Jaskier’s defensive stance, the smeared dust ring, the shocked look in the bards face. His eyebrows creased in concern.

“Jaskier?”

Shivering, Jaskier crumpled to the ground in a heap, the broken dust ring at his feet scattering into the air.

“Jaskier!”

-

Carrying Jaskier’s cold body back to the inn seemed to take both forever and not long at all. Geralt kicked the door in as he entered, startling the few patrons and making the barmaid drop her tray of ales. He strode straight through to the hall of doors leading to the few rooms on offer and barked instructions as he went.

“I need a healer and plenty of blankets! And a bowl of water!”

The door to their room was kicked open too, the lock flying off against Geralt’s strength. There were two small beds and Jaskier was laid gently on the closest one, his head pillowed but drooping to the side immediately. With quick fingers, Geralt pulled the armour off as well as the bards boots and began covering the chilled man with the blanket from the other bed. 

A barmaid came rushing in with an armful of blankets and a jug of water, which Geralt snatched from her. 

“The healer?”

“H-he’s been awoken n-now!”

She grabbed an empty bowl from the bedside table and held it out to Geralt. He hastily poured the water into it, sloshing it onto the floor and onto the maids feet as she began piling Jaskier with blankets as he shivered. 

Digging through his bags, Geralt pulled out a little pouch as the healer came storming into his room, startling at the sight of a Witcher and the thunderous look on his face being taken over by a look of surprise. Geralt cast igni on the pouch which caught fire and began to spark. The barmaid cried out and darted from the room but Geralt ignored her and dropped the flickering pouch into the bowl to fizzle. 

Turning to the healer, Geralt explained as best he could what had happened; no he didn’t actually see what the spirit had done to Jaskier, yes he was sure Jaskier had been well before hand, fuck off he didn’t do this to Jaskier.

The man placed a hand on Jaskier’s face and yelped at the cold. 

The flickering of the pouch stopped and it sank under water. The door to the room, which had swung almost closed when the maid ran out, flung open with a gust of wind and Triss Merigold swept through, her dress floating behind her. Her eyes were practically glowing as she took in the room. 

“You called- oh!” She frowned and strode over to the bard. “What happened?”

“An afarit. I don’t know what it did.”

“A what?” The healer said, stepping back as Triss brushed past him, taking no notice.

She hummed and held her hands over Jaskier. “Tell me exactly what happened, leave nothing out.”

Geralt ran through the entire story as quick and thoroughly as he could. Jaskier would hate the simplistic the facts. 

The healer was pale a horrified. “We must finish sending this man to the afterlife, lest the spirit be cursed to haunt us to the end of our days!”

Triss clicked her tongue at the man as Geralt snarled in anger. “If that’s all the help you’re going to be, you’ll have to leave.” She waved a hand vaguely at him and turned to Geralt. “You managed to place the stake? Interesting.” A bag that Geralt hadn’t seen her bring in appeared at her side and she began to pull bowls and vials from it. “Call Yennefer, I know you can.”

“She always said you had a better hand at healing.”

A small smile graced Triss’ pretty face. “Did she now? How nice of her. I need her power. Call her now, Geralt.”

Obediently, Geralt dug in a pocket for a small stone and pricked a finger to the sharp edge. As soon as the blood dropped down the stone, a sigh came from behind Geralt. 

“Geralt.” Yennefer said, raising an eyebrow as she peered past him and into the room. “What mess has your bard gotten into?” She blinked, a look as close to surprise as it could get gracing her face. “Triss.” She glanced at the healer who was standing with his mouth agape. “I don’t know you.”

“I’m-“

“I don’t care.” She drifted past Geralt to stand on the other side of Jaskier while the healer spluttered and cursed, eventually storming from the room. 

Geralt came to stand next to Yennefer as Triss spread a thick salve over Jaskier’s forehead. The trembling stopped and Jaskier’s breathes became deep and rhythmic. 

“What can we do?” Geralt asked, voice quiet. 

Yennefer glanced at Triss and pursed her lips. “Let us talk, then we’ll see.”

-

The two witches tried multiple things over the next three days, each getting more and more frustrated at the lack of change in Jaskier. 

“It’s like he’s fighting us.” Yennefer said, flinging herself into a chair and pouting. “The spells should be working but it’s like he’s not allowing them to take effect.”

Triss hummed. “What if he is? No ones ever seen afarit’s actually grant wishes, maybe it’s all in the mind of the victim?”

“Why would it do that though?” Geralt asked from wheee he was sat but Jaskier’s head. 

Yennefer tapped a finger to her chin. “To keep them unconscious maybe? So they can continue to suck the life from their victims.”

Geralt winced at the reminder that the witches were keeping close tabs on how Jaskier’s body was doing. Despite the spells and potions they had fed him to keep his healthy while sleeping, he was dying and they couldn’t work out why. 

“Like some sort of parasite,” Triss muttered to herself, making notes with a quill that wrote by itself. “Keeping the victim asleep and not fighting means they can drain them easier. So if they deem the victim worthy of granting a wish, they put it into their head so they’ll want to stay in the make-believe world.”

“But those they don’t they simply kill? They don’t seem the life good enough to use for themselves?” Yennefer questioned, only for Triss to shrug.

Geralt cleared his throat. “The two men that the afarit has killed... one was Rose’s uncle, who killed Kenley. The other was the stablehand who told the mayor about the relationship.”

Yennefer conceded with a sigh. “It’s the best we’ve got, I suppose.”

The quill was scribbling faster and faster as Triss stood up and began pacing. 

“We need to make Jaskier what to come out of this imaginary world. We could edit a mind-meld potion to put Geralt into his dream state to talk him out of it...”

“Why I am going in exactly?”

Triss and Yennefer exchanged looks and then stared at Geralt expectedly.

“Because he barely knows me?” Triss said.

“Because he’ll never listen to me.” Yennefer added.

“Because he knows you best?”

“Because you’re a fucking Witcher.”

“Because you’re his best friend?”

“Because you could be more if you pulled your head out of your ass and asked him-“

“Ok, Ok!” Geralt raised his hands in defence. “Fuck. What do I do?”

Yennefer pulled on a cloak out of nothing and opened a portal. “Come help me get some ingredients. Then you’re going to take a little nap, just like you always wanted.”

-

Geralt gulped down the potion and laid back into the other bed, mirroring Jaskier in his own bed. The Witcher sighed and looked up at the ceiling. 

“I don’t feel anything. How long is this meant to take?”

There was no answer and Geralt sat up on his elbows to ask again but neither Yen or Triss where in the room with him. Looking across, Jaskier had disappeared too. On edge, Geralt rolled off the bed and stood up, aware of how quiet the room was now, how still. 

Opening the door led directly to the outside, bright and warm, and not the town that Geralt had been in before taking the potion. Instead the door opened in the middle of a dirt road, somewhere near Novigrad if Geralt had to guess. Stepping through, Geralt felt the door close behind him but when he looked back, the door was gone. 

“Guess I’m not returning that way.” He murmured to himself. Pausing in the road, Geralt looked both ways and debated his choices. A breeze blew across him and with it the smell of salt and sand. 

The coast.

Trusting his nose and, in a few minutes when the sound of rolling waves hit him, his ears, Geralt stepped off the path to head towards the sea. The weather was nice as he found the cliff edge and the trail leading down to the sandy beach, sunny and warm but not hot and a constant soft breeze. 

It didn’t take long to get to the soft sand, and as soon as Geralt reached the ground he could smell siren blood. If this was Jaskier’s deepest wish, why the hell was there blood? But underneath that smell was Jaskier, lavender and sunshine. His scent was easy to follow around a corner of the cliff and Geralt paused before he peered around the rocks. 

He could hear Jaskier humming. 

Looking around, Geralt froze at the scene.

A small pile of sirens lay bleeding sluggishly on the beach, the sand around them scuffed from a fight. Bags and weapons where propped up against the cliff wall. Jaskier was sat on the warm sand, doubles off and feet and ankles near in the sunlight.

And Geralt was laying next to the bard, his head in his lap, smiling up at Jaskier as gentle hands stroked silver hair while Jaskier hummed a tune and sung words Geralt couldn’t hear. 

“I like that.” Not-Geralt said, making Jaskier grin.

“I’ve been working on it for a while. For you.” A finger trailed from not-Geralt’s hair to his nose and then Jaskier leant down to press a soft kiss to not-Geralt’s mouth. The look of love and happiness was clear on Jaskier’s face as they parted, a pink blush crossing Jaskier’s nose and cheeks when not-Geralt lifted a hand to stroke his jaw. 

“My love.” Not-Geralt murmured and it surprised Geralt so much he shifted without meaning too, scraping his armour against the rocks and making not-Geralt snap his head towards him. 

Not-Geralt rolled off of Jaskier and stood in front of the bard protectively, glancing at where his swords were propped up before watching as Geralt came around the corner slowly. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier whispered, taking a step more behind not-Geralt. “What- how?”

“It must be a doppler.” Not-Geralt said in a soothing voice. “It’s alright, I won’t let it hurt you.”

Geralt took a deep breath. “Jaskier, I know this is odd but I need you to come with me.”

The bard made a noise in surprise, shifting forwards to press a hand to not-Geralt’s back. “Oh, I’m quite alright here thanks.”

When Geralt stepped forwards, not-Geralt growled. “I don’t want to upset you, please, trust me.”

“Just fuck off, would you?” Not-Geralt snapped. “You’re not welcome.”

It took a rough bite to his lip but Geralt managed to ignore the fake, keeping his eyes on Jaskier. “You don’t understand, you’re dying.”

Not-Geralt reached behind himself and Jaskier took his hand. “He seems fine to me.”

Finally, Geralt scowled at him. “I’m not talking to you, you’re not real.”

A laugh bubbles from Jaskier. “What kind of trick is this?”

Geralt reached forwards imploringly, Jaskier straightened but didn’t move away as Geralt took another step closer, now just a few steps from the spur and able to smell how integrated their scents were. “I know this is hard to understand. But we don’t have much time. You’ve been asleep for days already.”

The not-Geralt scoffed and Jaskier sent him a fond look. “I don’t feel asleep.”

“Ever since the afarit - do you remember?”

Now not-Geralt looked smug. “That was weeks ago! I’ve never met a doppler so shit at lying.”

“You got attacked.” Geralt tried.

Jaskier tilted his head. “Yes, but you - err, Geralt - killed the spirit just in time. I got knocked down but there was no damage.” He grinned up at not-Geralt. “You were so worried,” he said softly, Geralt’s heart hurting at the adoring look on his face. “You kissed me while I was still on the ground.”

Not-Geralt flushes and wrinkled his nose. “Not now, love.”

Geralt swallowed heavily. “Jaskier- you’ve got to believe me. This isn’t real. You got attacked and the afarit is inside you, creating this perfect world. You need to come with me and wake up.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” Jaskier said, firmly. 

“I think you should go.” Not-Geralt said with a shit-eating grin. 

“I’m sure everything’s been so perfect since then.” Geralt kept going. “Like everything’s falling into place. Isn’t that odd?”

Jaskier frowned. Geralt saw not-Geralt flicker around the edges. “Our luck was bound to change eventually.” The bard insisted.

Not-Geralt shifted his hand from Jaskier’s own to his arm. “You seriously need to fuck off now.” He snarled at Geralt.

“I can’t.” Geralt said, looking at Jaskier desperately. “I can’t leave you here.”

“He’s happy here!”

Jaskier frowned at not-Geralt. “A bit tight on my arm there, love.”

“He’s literally sucking the life from you Jaskier.”

“And you broke his heart!”

“You’re killing him!”

Not-Geralt’s mouth was full of fangs. “I’m making him happy!”

“You’re hurting me! Geralt!” 

Letting go, the not-Geralt turned to Jaskier and flickered a few times, making Jaskier’s jaw drop. “I’m sorry, my love, I didn’t mean to.” At Jaskier’s face, not-Geralt made a sad noise. “Please, don’t I make you happy?”

“Happier than I think I’ve ever been.” Jaskier said slowly. “Happier than I thought possible.” The fake flickered again. 

Geralt shifted forwards and held out a hand. “Come away Jaskier, this isn’t real. It’s all in your head.”

Not-Geralt scowled. “And why should that mean it’s not real?” He smiled softly at Jaskier and pressed his forehead to the bards. “Doesn’t this feel real? Aren’t your songs real? Don’t I feel real?”

Jaskier stepped back. “Are you killing me?” He asked softly.

With a sigh, the not-Geralt faded slightly and then resolidified. “Perhaps. But have you noticed? Everything here feels real and perfect, you could have everything you ever wanted.”

“You’ll dead in days.” Geralt snapped.

“But it will feel like a lifetime!” Not-Geralt yelled back, eyes bursting into flames and then settling back into gold. He turned to Jaskier and held his hand out. “We’ll spend our life together, it will feel like years and years. Me hunting, you singing. Travelling together, becoming famous, in love.”

“And then I’ll die.”

Not-Geralt shrugged. “So would you out there. Here, you’ll live a full amazing life and die in my arms. It will feel like years. You’ll die loved and and adored by me and all your fans. How could you ask for more.”

Geralt shook his head. “You could ask for it to be real. You don’t want people to love you and your songs because he made it happen; you want them to love your songs because they’re worth the love, because you worked hard on them, because they made people feel.”

Jaskier looked between the two and his eyes began to water. “This isn’t fair.”

“Oh my love,” the not-Geralt hushed, “you don’t have to fear it. You’ll be so safe. You’ll never feel sadness again.”

Swallowing hard, Jaskier looked at the fake Witcher desperately. “I love you.” He said.

Not-Geralt smiled. “And I love you.”

Jaskier closed his eyes.

And took a hand.

-

Geralt opened his eyes to the ceiling in the inns room, just a second before Jaskier woke as well. The bard began to gasp, sitting up and tumbling straight off the bed as he coughed and sobbed. Triss was by Jaskier’s side before Geralt rolled of his own bed and rushed to his friend. Jaskier was batting Triss away and retching as he curled in on himself when Geralt came into his view.

Jaskier was pale and sickly looking, eyes wide and wild as he choked on air as he tried to take in massive lungfuls, tears tracking down his face.

“Leave me alone,” he moaned, clutching the side of the bed. “Fuck, just leave me alone!”

Triss looked at Geralt for answers but Geralt had none. “Jask-“

The bard sobbed and tried to turn away, suddenly vomiting. “Fuck off! I’ve lost everything!” Gasping he began to cry, almost hysterical, his whole body shaking. “Leave me alone!”

Yennefer placed a hand on Geralt’s arm and pulled him away and out the door. The door shut but all three could hear Jaskier’s cries and splutters in the hallway, his heart thumping against his chest and the soft wailing between sobs. 

“What happened?” Triss asked, a hand on her face.

Geralt shook his head in refusal. 

“He needs time.” Yennefer said firmly. “Give him time.”

-

Geralt sat outside Jaskier’s door all night, resting against the door and listening to his friend whining and eventually crying himself to a unhappy sleep. In the early hours of the morning, Geralt heard the window creak open and several shaky footsteps. He scrambled to his feet and opened the door, the room empty and the window wide open, the bushes under the window crushed slightly. 

Finding Jaskier outside was easy, even if Geralt didn’t have elevated senses. The town was small and empty enough that there was only a few places to hide away if Jaskier had been trying to do just that. He clearly wasn’t, as he made no attempt to conceal his tracks as he walked though the town.

Geralt found him sitting on the bridge, legs hanging off the edge and swinging gently. He made no movement as Geralt sat next to him.

They sat in silence for a long time.

“I’m sorry.” Geralt said.

Jaskier shrugged. “You saved my life.”

With nothing to say to that, Geralt hummed.

“I can leave tomorrow.” Geralt looked at Jaskier in surprise. “I get if you don’t want me around anymore.”

“Why...?”

The bard looked at Geralt with hard eyes. “You know how I feel about you, Geralt, don’t play dumb. You saw my hearts desire. We both know that’s not going to happen.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Jaskier flinched. “So why make you feel uncomfortable and torture myself. I’ll bugger off.”

With a heavy sigh, Geralt swallowed and spoke slowly. “We both know that what you had in your head in never going to happen. The afarit made everything perfect. And I have the feelings for you that the fake me did but I can’t be perfect like he was.” Jaskier stared at him. “So that perfect world won’t ever be.”

The bards hands were shaking where they were clenched on his knees. “Don’t do this. Not if it’s not true. I can’t take it.”

Geralt took a hand in his own. “I’m not exactly one to pretend just to make life easier for someone, Jask. I should have told you before, I know you’ve had feeling for me but-“ He sighed. “It’s not going to be easy. Or anything near perfect.”

“But it’ll be real?” Jaskier asked quietly.

The Witcher gave him a small smile. “Very real.” 

He meant sideways and met Jaskier in a kiss, hesitant and soft in ways Geralt didn’t know he could be. Jaskier smiled brightly at him when they parted and shifted closer to kiss him again, firmer. 

“Stay with me.” Geralt murmured against his lips. 

“It’s all I want.”

-

**Author's Note:**

> So if you’ve watched Supernatural you know Djinns are a bit different to the ones in the Witcher. And if you cross them with the Dreamwalkers... this. 
> 
> Honestly, Dream A Little Dream Of Me by The Mamas and Papas in that episode is beautiful. And when I hear it I picture Jaskier singing it to Geralt with Geralt’s head in his lap *sighs*
> 
> And the scene of the two Geralt’s arguing while Jaskier tries to work stuff out is the whole reason for this fic.


End file.
